17.8.09

Grey Old Legs of Misunderstanding

A hairway of teeth. Speeding bullets. The clock chimes "nine...nine..nein..." Whose biscuits are these, O Greenie Sweet? My face has taken a bit of a bath on the stockmarket, old chum; nose dipped to 0.264 on close of DowJones Skindex maybe it'll recover when the HK exchange opens at 9:00am I'd hate to lose one of my eyes, you know...

Nan's body washed up on the shoreline again two smooth round pebbles for eyes mouth full of sand and seaweed some species of bladderwrack I believe her skin grey and lacerated by driftwood dress torn by the tides throw her back in the council don't want to take her away phoned the helpline got a prerecorded message a sharp burst of static and synthetic oscillations then some voice said: "No one left here who cares or even gives a fuck we done fucked off to paris with your money look where working for a living gets you, idiot" followed by more static and apecackle played through an echo-deck.

2 comments:

Robert said...

:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

db said...

Dunno you get *used* to it if that means like an everyday don't notice since that's the part that's the worst, the underwaves you sink down and it's bliss and cold not so much sleep but like you run and run and run and run and then you don't have to run anymore? you know what i mean? that's it but it stays and doesn't fade, you expand out and it's all a part of you and that's the best, but above the waves what with grubby project kids poking at your distended bellyparts with a stick that's just unpleasant. It's weird to be dead, it's hard to explain.

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